Ultimate Betrayal
by Sweet Declarations
Summary: Desperately searching for a way to end the war, Hermione stumbles upon a fifty years old secret that traps her in the past. As love and hate clash, she finds out that the worst villain happens to be the most tragic victim...
1. The Wheels of Destiny

**Disclaimer**: I am not earning any money off of this. Anything you recognize from Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., and so on.

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**Chapter 1: The Wheels of Destiny**

Often, she did not understand why she had chosen the life she had chosen. Of course, she was no ordinary person. In fact, she was quite special. Being the cleverest witch since Rowena Ravenclaw herself to walk the hallways of Hogwarts and being one of the best friends of Harry Potter guaranteed that she would not lead a "normal life." However, as abnormal life could become, there are some things that just never changed.

Bickering with Ronald Weasley had become some kind of unfortunate routine for Hermione Granger. They hardly went through a day without arguing with one another to the point that they would just turn their faces away from each other, waiting for the other to admit they were wrong first.

This morning was no different_ – _or it would have been, if she hadn't decided to visit Dumbledore as he had told her to. However, this was Hermione Granger and she followed every single instruction that was given to her.

"The prat," Hermione silently fumed as she trekked the empty halls of Hogwarts. Her heels clacked out a continual beat, speaking of the source and reason of her unmitigating rage.

_Clickety-Clack_. _Ronald Weasley is an uncaring, unfeeling, obtuse rat_.

She crumpled the small piece of parchment she held in her hand, willing it and Ronald to burn into a pile of ash. He had been parading Lavender Brown around all day. It was as if they were joined at the hip. Tears began gathering around her large doe eyes. What made the situation worse was the fact that he knew how she felt about him. She had revealed her feelings for him the other day, only to face a humiliating rejection.

Then today, in the Great Hall, he proceeded to dig a spike deep into her heart. When Professor Snape had handed her a parchment, Ronald had the gall to state that she should thank the greasy git as it was unlikely another wizard would willingly write to her.

Ronald was now vomiting flobberworms. Yet, Hermione only felt a fleeting satisfaction at this thought as she continued trudging toward the Headmaster's office.

And so she arrived in front of the gargoyles at twenty to twelve, unshed tears still circling in her eyes and still trying to calm herself enough so that a certain blue-eyed Headmaster wouldn't know that she was upset. It was silly, really, since she didn't know of anything that had escaped the attention of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore yet.

At fifteen to twelve, she heaved a sigh and mumbled the password ("Tootsie Pops") to the stone statue guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's office. The gargoyle immediately jumped to the side, allowing her to walk up the stairwell. With three loud thuds, she knocked on the wooden door.

"Come in."

She opened the door and walked inside a room that was as bizarre as it was intriguing. Silver instruments lay around the room, humming as certain parts of it twisted and twirled around. Piles and piles of books sat around the room and on tables, waiting for a curious reader to flip through their pages. Hermione would've been more than enthralled to read through any one of them. The purpose of this trip, regretfully, was not a personal tour into the library of Albus Dumbledore.

The wizard was sitting behind a large mahogany desk, his fingers pressed together in a steeple as he looked at her over his half-moon spectacles.

"Good day, Ms. Granger," he greeted her.

"Good day, Professor Dumbledore," she answered back, sitting down in the chair he had gestured for her to sit down in. "You've owled me this morning to meet with you at noon?"

"Yes," the Headmaster answered. "I've requested for you to come here because there are some...things that I wanted to discuss with you."

A curious glow replaced the anger in her eyes.

"About what, Professor?" Hermione asked.

Dumbledore stood up and walked over to one of the silver instruments, his back towards her.

"You see, Hermione. There are quite a bit of things that have changed throughout the years and although I know about your particular dislike of fortune-telling and such, I would have to ask a favor from you," he said, his long, slender finger touching the instrument in front of him.

"A favor?" she asked. He nodded, never turning his eyes towards her. A nervous smile appeared on Hermione's face. For some reason, the Headmaster's attitude and motions made her feel nervous.

He finally looked at her, "I need you to travel back into the past."

"Travel...Professor! We're not allowed to change time!" Hermione protested. A small smile appeared on the wizard's face.

"You're not changing time, Hermione," Dumbledore answered. "I'm asking you to go back in time to do a bit of research." The witch was quiet, knowing that the wizard was not finished with what he had to say. Their eyes locked and Dumbledore smiled when he saw the sharp intelligence sparkling in the depths of her eyes. "Your research will be vital to the Order and," he paused as if he was deciding if he should say what he was about to say, "you _have_ to go back in order for the timeline to remain unchanged."

Hermione stared at him, not knowing what to say. She was fully aware that Dumbledore was insinuating that he had seen her in whatever time period he was planning on sending her back to.

"Hermione! You are the one who holds the key! You must find the lock to the truth! That's the only way the future of the wizarding community will have a chance!"

"Will have a chance in what, Professor?" Hermione persisted.

"The answers lie in the past, Hermione," Dumbledore answered, a kind, almost sad, smile on his face.

She didn't answer him, her heart a complete mess and her mind buzzing like a beehive.

"Will you go back, Hermione?" Dumbledore asked, watching her intently, his expression bordering on harsh seriousness.

"I...I don't know, Professor," she mumbled. She laughed nervously again, "And I don't really have a choice now, do I?" Her eyes was looking at anywhere but him. She was confused.

Why couldn't Dumbledore just tell her what was happening? Why did she _have_ to go back into the past?

"What year am I supposed to travel back to?" she asked.

"The year 1943," he answered. He raised his hand, allowing a familiar-looking hourglass to fall.

Hermione glared at the hourglass, recalling that it only turned back an hour per turn which meant that she had to turn the thing nearly half a million times before she could reach her destination. Perhaps Dumbledore had read her mind, since he chuckled at her expression.

"This particular Time-Turner had been charmed to bring you to your destination with merely one turn," he explained. He walked over to where Hermione, picked up her hand, and placed the device in her hand. "It lies in your hands now, Hermione."

* * *

Hermione sighed for the tenth time since she had sat down at the Gryffindor table, stabbing at the carrots on her plate. Of course, Dumbledore had been anything but subtle throughout the entire conversation. It all comes down to the conclusion that she did not have a choice. _Nothing_ was ever in her hands. The Headmaster had staged the entire performance and as much as Hermione admired him for his wisdom, she resented the fact that he was trying to manipulate her as he had manipulated Harry.

"What's the matter, Hermione?" Harry asked, concern swimming around in his green eyes.

"Harry, I -"

She didn't have the heart to tell Harry what she was required of doing. The wizard looked at her expectantly.

"Nothing, Harry," she finally said. "I'm just worried about the NEWT's."

"Hermione, that's not until next year!"

"Well...you know me well enough," she smiled weakly. Harry shook his head and went back to eating.

She looked at the hourglass that was now hanging around her neck, feeling that it was heavier than ever.

All of a sudden, accompanied with the sounds of forks and knives hitting against a plate, a redhead sat down beside her, his mouth pulled into a big grin.

"Hello, Hermione," Ron Weasley greeted her.

She stared at him from the corner of her eye, hardly shocked that he was acting as if nothing from the morning had happened.

His eyes traveled from her hair to her face.

"Is it just me or there's something..." he frowned, "different about you?"

"That's a bit odd. I've never expected you out of all people to notice what's happening," she spat out, stabbing her carrot a bit harder than before.

"Bloody hell," Ron whispered, his eyes taking yet another tour of her face.

Very much annoyed, she stood up from her chair and walked out of the Great Hall.

* * *

Standing in the middle of the empty hallway, Hermione sighed again.

It seemed like she did not have a choice, did it? She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, wishing that she could open her eyes and find a different situation in front of her.

But she know that that was impossible.

Time could not be changed. If Dumbledore had seen her back in the forties, that meant that she _had_ to go back.

When she opened her eyes again, they took on a resoluted gleam.

It was now or never.

With a turn of the hourglass, she was gone.

It was only when she had disappeared that the shadow around the corner came into view.

His twinkling blue eyes appeared more serious than ever as he took a handful of sand from where Hermione had been previously standing and approached one of the many windows of the school. He pushed it open and held out his hand, allowing the grains of sand to fly away with the wind.

"Fly, little one, like how I know you're supposed to. You are destined for so much in the past as well as in the future. Let the fates guide you and may the pages of destiny turn in accordance."


	2. Betrayal of the Eyes

**Disclaimer**: I am not earning any money off of this. Anything you recognize from Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., and so on.

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**Chapter Two: Betrayal of the Eyes**

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, September 2, 1943

The halls were quiet, but for the swish of prefect robes ruffling in the breeze. Tom Riddle scowled. His plan to acquire Griffin Tears was becoming more complicated than anticipated.

All because of Edith Littleton, who fancied herself in love with him. The chit was supposed to be making googly eyes at Devon Whiltshire. Instead, the simpering miss had glomed onto him like a leech. She spouted off numerous saccharine-sweet terms of endearment, including Tommy and Dom-Dom. All of which placed a horrific strain on his gentlemanly facade.

His heavy footsteps thudded down the virtually silent corridor. With every echoed step, he sought to calm himself. He despised the internal chaos and disorder that currently encompassed him. They were unacceptable. He willed his mask of indifference to shroud his face once more, to mask the turmoil that left him aching to break free of the mortal coil that bound him.

He gritted his teeth. Feelings were weaknesses that clouded the mind. And these intangible desires did not bring him peace or solace. No, in these times, what he wished for was the sacred hollowness bestowed on a dementor's victim.

He stopped abruptly, gazing around at the hall he had blindly led himself to. He cursed. He had not intended on walking so far and into so desolate a location. He began to turn back when a soft whisper reached his ear.

_Fly away._

Tom drew his wand, muttering a _lumos,_ as his eyes searched for the owner of the muffled sighs. They were like an ancient siren's call, a warning cry, drawing him further and further into an inescapable doom.

The air around him seemed to grow thin and his vision blurred. Tom's eyes widened as they made out a shimmering light glinting several steps away.

The twinkling particles seemed to merge together as they twisted and turned into a solid form. Tom blinked, uncertain if the sight that lay before him was naught but a mirage.

Long caramel ringlets tumbled down the form's back. Its curves indicated the apparition was a female. As she slowly turned, examining her whereabouts, he saw a frown marring her face.

He observed her silently, his grip tightening on his wand, not daring to underestimate the individual's lethality. As he watched her lean toward the portrait in front of her, he decided to make his advance.

* * *

Hermione stared at the shards of glass in her hands.

Dumbledore had to be kidding her.

He. Had. To. Be.

It had to be a ridiculous joke that the whole school was trying to play on her. She closed her eyes and willed it to be some kind of nightmare that her subconscious had concocted for her.

When she opened her eyes again, she felt the angst building in her heart as panic filled her eyes. She was still in the middle of the hallways.

With a piece of the broken Time-Turner in her hand and the other piece dangling from the necklace around her neck.

She gazed at the pieces despairingly. She had done nothing to the Time-Turner but turn it as Dumbledore described. Yet, it seemed that the valuable piece was too fragile for the lengthy journey. Its binding eroded away, its hourglass collapsed, and its sands littered the cold, stone floor below.

After some internal mourning about her extremely bad luck, the familiar settings told her that she was in Hogwarts. Yet, the portraits on the walls were greatly different from the ones in the "Hogwarts" she had come to know. For example, she could have sworn that the portrait right in front of her should be inhabited by Sir William Beckingham, not the woman who was currently staring at Hermione with fear and curiosity in her eyes.

Cold sweat began building on her forehead as her mind continued to register the differences between the Hogwarts in her mind and what she was seeing.

Until someone approached her.

"You there," a collected male's voice called out behind her.

She turned around and found herself staring at a face that could only be owned by an angel. His dark eyes were guarded, but it did nothing to diminish the attractiveness of them. It almost seemed as if he could look right into her soul. His raven black hair lay in neat waves, much unlike Harry's unruly, messy hair. All in all, she could imagine half of the girls in Hogwarts chasing after him.

His cautious eyes turned to surprised ones when he took in her features before his eyebrows knitted into a frown.

"You're...who are you?" he asked, the flickering of the candlelight momentarily illuminating his prefect badge.

Hermione's eyes quickly took in his badge and his attire – he was a Slytherin.  
_  
_Hermione knew by experience that there was only one way to deal with a Slytherin: never show any vulnerability because as soon as you bare your neck, they sink their fangs into you, with their words like poison seeping under your skin and rendering you immobile until they devour you completely.

Hermione chanced another glance at his predatory eyes. Yes, she could tell that this prefect was Slytherin to the core. Deciding on a course of action, her eyes hardened until they matched his. There was only one thing she could do: show absolute confidence.

"That's my line!" she shot back, her voice rang with authority as she pushed her own prefect badge under his nose. "Fifty points from Slytherin for stealing someone else's prefect badge! What did you do to the poor girl?!"

The handsome Slytherin's eyes grew wide for a second and his momentary hesitation was enough for Hermione to act.

She pulled out her wand and pointed it directly at his face.

"Go on then. What did you do? Stuffed her into the Vanishing Cabinet? Locked her into one of the empty classrooms?" she asked bossily, nearly jabbing the piece of wood up his nose.

He didn't answer her, the surprise and anger rapidly building up in his eyes.

"Are you going to talk or do I have to bring you to the Headmaster?"

Hermione didn't realize until it was too late that she had made the mistake of mentioning the Headmaster. All she had wanted to do was to make the Slytherin uncertain so she could get away from him swiftly, but apparently, something in her posture or words snapped him out of his shock.

"For your information," he began angrily, "I happen to be the Slytherin prefect! Everyone knows that."

"Well, for your information," she mocked him, crossing her arms across her chest, "_**I**_ don't know. So that doesn't mean everyone. Second of all," she eyed him from head to toe, "I've never seen you around before."

"The same could be said about you. I suppose you're some random first year, aren't you?" he sneered at her. "Pretending to be a prefect, aren't we?" He mimicked her and glanced at her from head to toe. "And a _Gryffindor _one. Nothing less than a whole month of detention for just that."

His subtle swipe at her House ignited some kind of flame in her.

"A whole _year_ of detention could not possibly be enough for someone pretending to be a _Slytherin_ prefect," she retorted.

_HA! Take that!_

The cold fury on his face increased and it seemed as if he was ready to pull out his wand and hex her on the spot.

"Tom, my boy!" a voice boomed behind Hermione. She turned around and found a man who reminded her much of a walrus. The witch assumed that it was one of the professors who had retired before her time.

"Professor Slughorn, good evening," the Slytherin greeted the man, the anger and haughtiness disappearing as fast as it had appeared.

"Good evening, Tom," Slughorn rejoined, a shadow of a frown shaded his face. "I've been looking for you."

At the second mention of the Slytherin prefect's name, Hermione face took on a look of surprise.

_Tom? As in Tom Riddle_? Hermione thought in horror, trying not to faint on the spot in realizing that she had just argued with the future Lord Voldemort.

She furrowed her eyebrows and stole a glance at the handsome young man standing next to her. It was purely impossible. How could someone like that turn into Lord Voldemort? Yes, he was haughty and rude and unbelievably argumentative, but for him to become the darkest wizard in history? Ridiculous! No, she was jumping to conclusions. After all, Tom was quite a common name.

Finally noticing Hermione, the frown on the professor's face disappeared and he let out a few thoughtful hems and haws as he attempted to place her. Peering between Tom and her and noticing their close stance, a slow smile spread across his face as he reached a conclusion. "You certainly work quickly, Tom. Always with the ladies, sweeping them off their feet." He chuckled at his words.

The two students exchanged a startled look. It was a look of surprise that Tom quickly masked, gauging the man in front of him, before delicately replying, "I'm afraid you misunderstand, Professor. I -"

Slughorn interrupted boisterously, "No need to look so embarrassed, my boy. I understand." Slughorn winked at Tom, whose cheeks took on a barely perceptible angry red tinge. "After all, it's not everyday Hogwarts get such a lovely transfer student." He continued, not noticing the look of discomfort and bewilderment that seeped from the faux 1943 Gryffindor. He then turned to Tom, his face a stern mask, "But that still doesn't excuse you from your assignment. I hope you have a good explanation. Being nearly two hours late is clearly unacceptable and unbecoming of your prefect standing."

At the mention of the word "prefect", Tom cast a side glance at Hermione, more specifically, the badge that graced her person. His eyes brightened. Sensing his malevolent intentions, Hermione rushed to explain before Tom could pervert the facts to his favor.

"Professor, I'm afraid it's all my fault," Hermione spoke, an odd sense of familiarity coursing through her at her words. It was like first year and the troll incident all over again.

Tom's eyes narrowed on her as he attempted to determine what she had to gain from defending him.

She continued, "I got a little turned around in the castle when I stumbled upon this prefect badge lying in the corridor." Her eyes blinked innocently as she showed Slughorn the badge in her hand.

"Hmm, I see," Slughorn spoke. "Please continue," he urged.

Yet, the younger Slytherin was not so anxious to hear her words and gazed upon her sourly at her manipulation of the situation. He gritted his teeth and opened his mouth seemingly ready to contradict her version of the events. Hermione pointedly ignored him, rushing to finish her tale. After all, the story would benefit both of them.

"I admit to being worried, as I was uncertain if something terrible had happened to its owner. Especially considering the dark times we live in." She paused dramatically. "When I saw Tom, I knew that- "

"-that it would be the wisest course of action to inform another prefect," Tom interrupted. His distrust in her was palpable, as if he was afraid that she would cast him as the predator of a grizzly story. Yet, he also did not contradict her, most likely gauging her importance and how it could serve him.

"We began searching-" Tom began before trailing off on noticing Slughorn's oblivious expression.

"Oh, dear. This is quite alarming." Slughorn's features took on a worried look and he began to ponder the course of events under his breath. "I wonder...hmm...prefect...Dippet stated he had not seen the student as well."

The two students looked on mystified as Slughorn seemed to fall into a trance, "Well, now we do have a conundrum." He looked puzzled momentarily before his expression cleared up. "Ah, the hospital wing. Wonderful." A beaming smile spread across his face. "No, I do think things will work out."

"Pardon, Professor? Hermione queried.

"Hmm, no, no- pardon me," Slughorn boomed out, clapping his hands happily. He turned to Tom, "I apologize, my boy. I should have known: you would never shirk your responsibilities."

"Never, sir. Though I do believe I should have owled about the incidence immediately," Tom said, looking properly contrite.

"Nonsense, water under the bridge. Now for a change of plans." Without skipping a beat, Slughorn turned his head. "I'm assuming you just got here?" Slughorn asked, directing his question at Hermione.

"Yes, sir," Hermione confirmed without hesitance. This, at least, was the absolute truth.

"Now, Ms. Wald, I've heard you to have received 11 OWLS, correct? Potions, included?" Slughorn grinned wildly.

Despite the Professor's energetic enthusiasm, Hermione could only nod numbly in surprise. She was still uncertain as to how she could have stumbled into a perfectly logical explanation for her presence, one that didn't have Slughorn batting an eye. Had it all been part of Dumbledore's plan? Or was there another transfer student actually ambling about around the castle?

More carefully now, Hermione replied, "Yes, Professor."

Slughorn analyzed her thoughtfully. A gleam that Hermione was all too familiar with. It was assessing and speculating. She was certain an invitation to the Slug Club would not be far off.

"A Slytherin to boot, as well!" Slughorn exclaimed. "Splendid." Slughorn beamed, before whirling around and starting away, his cloak flapping maniacally behind him.

Hermione looked after the professor perplexed. Had he lost his marbles? She was clearly a Gryffindor. The tie said it all.

A tie that was currently silver and green in color.

Hermione glanced down at the offending article that seemed to mock her jeeringly. She was certain it had been red and gold not a moment before. She glanced over to the boy at her side, who raised his brow at her knowingly, a smirk plastered on his features, as he placed his wand back onto his person.

Unfortunately, she could not contemplate on her situation any longer, since Slughorn had paused, calling to the two students glaring at each other in the hall. "Now don't doddle- we have some brewing to do."

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**Author's Note**: Thank you for all those wonderful reviews! My dear readers, you are really amazing! I hope you liked Chapter 2 as well :). When I uploaded chapter 1, I accidentally forgot to enable anonymous reviews. I'm sorry if some of you couldn't leave a review because of that, but now it's enabled so.. (hint-hint ;) ) Let me know if I could give you an enjoyable read!


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